


whatever means necessary

by aMassiveDisappointment (BadOldWest)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Espionage, F/M, Imperial Russian AU, Riding on my 'Diego Looks Good in Any Jacket' Thing, Seduction, Smut, Titfucking, please don't think too hard about this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-10-02 02:38:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10207397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadOldWest/pseuds/aMassiveDisappointment
Summary: Imperial RussianAU. Cassian Andor has strict orders to get information out of Jyn Erso by whatever means necessary. She'll prove to make that as difficult as possible for him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Imperial Russian AU. Try not to think too hard about the plot, I just saw The Great Comet and really want Cassian in a 19th century military jacket. So here we are.

 

Cassian adjusted his fitted, neat buttoned jacket, examining the boxes of the opera house and trying to mask his disdain. 

His eyes caught the box three rows up, four from the center. 

There was a girl with unruly brown hair piled messily on the top of her head. He hated the styles in Moscow, the decadence of the higher class. The illusion of delicacy to cover the cruelty, the ignorance of the rebellion under their feet. She at least wasn’t disgusting to him on a physical level. He’d had worse. Just in everything she stood for, the people she surrounded herself with. 

He let his eyes soften as she glanced down at him, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgement and greeting. Her eyes flickered back to the stage, which was still covered in a curtain. There was nothing to look at there, just to make the point that she was not looking at him. He smirked, knowing the impression was made. He stared shamelessly, and saw her eyebrows raise, her face a poised impassivity, and he knew she arranged herself to be watched by him.

His target. 

She had floated into the box with her father in a white dress secured to her small waist with a glittering sash. Outfitted like any other woman of her class in the empire. Bought with the blood her father spilled with his weapons deals. 

It’s the only reason he was there that night. He had no taste for the opera. He didn’t come here to wear someone else’s stuffy jacket with its rows of buttons and piping, and white gloves and shiny boots. He was here to find her. Learn all he could of what she knew of her father’s next moves. Using the kind of language she was known to speak. 

He still looked up at her, boldly. Her eyes seemed secured in a rigid gaze in a direction that was not his. He could practically feel the heat rising in her skin. This was the first step. To make her feel like she was wanted by a stranger. 

 

Intermission gave way to a din in the crowd. Lower-ranking royals whisked themselves into private boxes to gossip. No one discussed the performance, despite its elaborate nature. Cassian rose, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. He glanced back up at the Erso’s box. Her father had vanished to discuss matters with Krennic. She was alone. Looking at him. Clearly having made up her mind about something. 

She watched as he vanished up the aisle of the orchestra section. 

 

Jyn felt the curtain draw back on the Erso’s private box. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met.”

She immediately melted a bit inside at the accent. So much more fun than some stuffy self-important soldier. There was always a story behind an accent. 

“And you thought to remedy that situation?” she finally turned to look at him, and close up, he was delicious to look at. She’d known the minute he vanished up the aisle that he was making his way to her. 

What a feeling it had been to savor between when he’d vanished under her eyes and then reappeared. 

“Captain Andor,” there was a polite, but proud, bow. 

“Jyn Erso,” she held out a gloved hand, which he took his own and kissed. 

“May I sit?”

“Only if you’ll not think me horribly impolite for not offering you a seat first.”

“Never, Miss Erso.”

He took the seat behind her, not next to her. They were at an intimate diagonal. She could feel his breath on her bared shoulder and neck. His eyes bore into her, and coyly, she resisted looking back at him. She stared down at her knees, feigning naivete. 

He had said barely ten words to her, but she had already decided she’d bed him. He was too pretty not to, and Jyn was bored. Time for her to make it into a game.

 

He knew boredom dictated her choice. She played with her fan as she spoke, her eyes flickering all over him in a hungry way. It was her class to toy with people’s lives out of mere boredom. She had bright eyes, and he almost wished they were occupied with more interesting things than the spoils of court intrigues. 

She slipped her fingers under his sleeve, the only available bare skin she could reach inconspicuously. His eyes were steely as they looked back at her. She craved his masculine composure, wanted to wrap her arms around the sleekness of him. 

She turned to face him with her bright, challenging eyes. They had the look that implied her interest would wane, and that the subject of her gaze best keep her occupied. 

She leaned close to whisper to him. Their lips were nearly touching.

“Our house in town, do you know where it is?”

He nodded. He’d been trailing her for a while, and knew she liked quiet men. His whole briefing told him many things about Jyn Erso, her string of lovers, never the same man twice. How many of them were neatly disposed of with her vast Imperial resources. 

“Our cook leaves the door of the kitchen unlocked for the bread delivery every day. Not even my father knows this. She’s a lazy thing and doesn’t like to wake up to let the deliveryman in, so she leaves it open for him.”

Impulsive, indulgent, reckless. She was everything he knew she’d be. 

“Do not think me presumptuous to assume why you might want me to know this secret.”

She grinned at him. “You are a darling to ask me to explain myself. Very gentlemanly.” She squeezed his hand. “I want you to see me tonight. My room is on the second floor, final door on the south wing.”

He nodded, squeezing her hand in return. He knew if he’d tried to flatter her with cheap words she’d have hauled him over the edge of the balcony. He’d done the usual fluffing and preening for noblewomen, but with her he had to try and communicate a straightforward, honest desire, which wasn’t nearly as hard as he’d pictured. 

He dared a kiss to her lips, because after an offer from a lady of her rank, she would grow anxious and regretful until she saw him again. She melted into a smile, kissing him eagerly like accepting a present. He had to make sure that door stayed unlocked for him. 

 

Jyn was giggling wildly to have this man between her thighs. He had been so dignified up until the moments that she had woken up with him pressed against her back, the cold still lingering on his clothes. She had fallen asleep in her opera gown, and knew from the moment she woke up what his intentions were for her. 

Cassian was surprised by the glee she took in performing the acts of mutual desire, because his body was responding more readily than the usual seduction required. She was practically giddy, joyous when he ripped her bodice open, sighing contentedly as his hands slid up her skirt to touch the bare skin above her stockings. 

When he’d first laid eyes on her, there had been an innocence, even more with her haughty air in ordering him into her room, leaking out an Achilles heel in her family’s security. But now, she was a rapturous sexual creature. These missions with high ranking ladies were usually simple enough. Cassian was learned in giving pleasure, he had to be. He had his skills he could give to the rebellion, stomaching these kind of encounters was a part of that. 

But all of his usual tricks….it’s not that they  _ didn’t _ work -she loved how he bit and sucked on her throat, toyed with her breasts, played with the place where she was softest and wettest- but she was also still wanting  _ more _ . He hoped his cock would sate her, but decided for good measure to tease as much as possible to get her to want it. These women were usually so much easier to control, but Jyn seemed to have the reins in her hand. He was determined to regain them.

However, her small hand slipped down his trousers and caressed him, and his eyes clenched shut. She was better than the usual women he had to bed. 

Her bare thighs clutched his hips as his fingers teased her, and he realized he was already painfully hard under her palm. This was getting away from him faster than he intended. But he had to follow through, otherwise there was no way of earning her trust. 

Still, her high pitched whine pleaded that he take his pleasure between her breasts before fucking her, and he almost came from the mere idea. 

_ “I want to feel it,” _ she’d insisted. 

She wiggled and writhed underneath him until he complied, climbing astride her chest carefully. She was naked save for her stockings, he was merely clad in his pants and boots. She was moaning at the feel of his thighs brushing her ribcage. 

_ Jyn  _ his mind gave the thought, giving her a name, as she took her breasts in her hands and pressed them together against the skin of his bared cock. He nearly leapt off of her. She was Galen Erso’s daughter. Nothing more. 

She took his hands in hers, pressing them to her breasts. 

“Just  _ take _ ,” she instructed, and his head fell back for a minute, because she felt perfect against his cock. Her hands slipped into of his trousers and clutched his ass until he finally thrust against the soft mounds. She giggled again, the trembling sensation it created nearly causing him to cum all over her face. It took nearly all his training to hold off for a few minutes where she bucked underneath him, clearly enjoying the observation of his thrusts and how it built anticipation for when he was finally inside her. She freed one hand to drag, open with sprawling fingers, down his chest and stomach. His muscles were tensed and she could feel them roll and he moved his hips against her. 

This wasn’t efficient or neat. She had higher expectations that the usual countess or weapons merchant’s wife. He needed to buy back his control, and he could only do it by playing her game.

“I want to cum inside you,” he gasped out, pulling away as she lifted herself to tongue the head of his cock. Trying to buy some time. Her relationship with her body was so much more developed than the usual stuffy lady of the Imperial Court. She fucked like a prize courtesan, and he knew this because he wasn’t even inside her yet and he was almost overcome. 

She smiled up at him challengingly. Her lips sealed around the head. He had to pull away first, and his stomach dropped from losing her game. 

“I was having fun,” she said stoutly.

Relieved to withdraw from where his mind was absolutely numb with pleasure, he crawled down her body. “Allow me to remedy that loss, Miss Erso.”

“You can call me Jyn,” she allowed, sighing at the end with another shaky laugh as his head lowered between her legs. She loved the feel of his hair on her thighs. He seemed to note that, his hands braced against them, thumbs moving to cause small sensations on her skin as his tongue fervently pleasured her. 

She was so wet. Just from him fucking her tits. But he wasn’t done there, even after her legs thrashing and struggling for him to release her. He smirked, glad to have gotten some control, if the sound of her moans was any indication.

But all too soon, she was pulling his hair to get him to crawl up her body. She scratched at his scalp in a way that made his eyes clench shut. This felt too good. He was angry by how little he hated bedding her.  She smiled conspiratorially at him, like they were both getting away with something very bad. Jyn had expressive eyes, they created the illusion of intimacy very well. 

She rolled him on his back and worked his cock in her hand, lining it up with her entrance. 

“Captain Andor,” her voice was a growl. He was surprised she even remembered the name. That was the last thought before she sank down on him. 

He felt her body tremble the same way it did when she was giggling. She wasn’t laughing now, she stared down at him with a look of pure hunger. She gripped his shoulders and rode him, seeking her own pleasure in a way that was mesmerizing to watch. 

Too mesmerizing. Too performed. 

There was a condescending smirk on her lips of someone far too pleased with herself.

He realized maybe his distraction wasn’t just because of her natural wiles. She seemed very focused on blowing  _ his _ focus. He was in much more danger than he first anticipated. 

This was time to try and escape. Send some other madman to her bed.

With her eyes shut and her head thrown back, he thought it safe to slide the knife out of his boot. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to quite literally cut and run. He lamented the loss of a creature like her. 

 

Jyn quite liked this man. He was responsive in a way so many stoic imperial soldiers refused to be. He took orders well. He lay back and let her ride him, thrusting up to meet her like they were doing this together. 

She found the whole evening a pleasant collaboration. 

He sat up and wrapped his arms around her, controlling the roll of her hips with his own dominant thrusts. She cooed and tangled her arms around his neck, hands fisted in his hair. The bare skin of their chests felt so good brushing together. She reminded herself she really should remember to ask for his first name. 

There was a sharp pricking at the base of her neck, but she leaned forward, because it was only as sharp as a bug bite. It was worth ignoring, she still wore her pearls, and maybe the clasp tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck. 

 

Cassian pressed the knife forward experimentally. She was somehow tamed already, he was minutes away from tossing the knife under the blankets and continuing on as planned.

When Cassian brushed her skin with his knife one last time, she had a blade to his throat. From where she pulled it, he had no idea. 

The innocent, mischievous looks was gone from her face. 

“I hope a rebel isn’t making an attempt on my life.”

She pressed, testing, the blade closer to his jugular. 

What he found most notable was she was threatening him with him both still very hard and still inside her.

“It can’t be the first time.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know what side I’m on, do you?”

She gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, controlling how far back his head tilted. She looked so in control she seemed to forget he also had a knife on her.

He thought quickly on his briefing.

_ Find Jyn Erso. Find out what she knows, by whatever means necessary. _

Sure, orders issued in a rendezvous point in a shady club in Moscow were never entirely thorough, but there were certainly less warnings on how critical it was not to get caught…

“You can’t be telling me you work for the rebellion.”

She laughed, less giddily, more of a cackle. It made her inner muscles squeeze him, still sheathed in her, and he flinched. 

“Are you jealous I’ve been such a good spy most of my own side doesn’t know about it? They told me a rebel captain would be at the Opera house tonight, but I thought this was just foreplay to the real business.”

“Why would you spy on your own father?”

The knife pressed closer to his throat.

“Because it is easier for me to gather information for the rebellion than it is for him. I’m not as closely watched. If he could risk it, don’t doubt for a second he would.”

“Allow me to doubt.”

She reached for the necklace at her throat, pushing his knife away when her fingers brushed it. He kept it in his hand, but away from her neck. His other hand was still curled around her thigh. She too lifted her knife, and a gold chain from under her strands of pearls. 

“Kyber crystal,” she said softly, “from my mother. It’s meant to symbolize hope. They killed my mother in front of me to get my father to join them. They threatened to kill me. He did it to save me.”

“Do you always have a very sad story poised on your tongue in case someone slips in your bed with a knife?”

“No, I have a knife in my bed in case that happens. Have you heard of agent Kestrel?”

At this he immediately dropped his weapon. The level of clearance to knowing that name would grant her was obvious she wasn’t playing him. She glared at him, grabbing his wrists and holding them over his head. She was stronger than she appeared. 

“They told me to get information out of you ‘by whatever means necessary’” he blurted out. 

She was still on his lap, naked, and seemed to be more peeved they were still discussing business matters. He felt her shifting; it couldn’t be comfortable to him still positioned inside her as they did this. 

“I’m risking my neck for the rebellion. Of course you’re going to have to give me something in return. It’s called a bargain.”

He blinked at her in silence. These were all things that could have been explained to him, but he could name twenty men back at base who would love to see him go to see Jyn Erso, a woman like her, completely blind. 

“You’ve been wasting time spying on your own side,” she pointed out flatly. 

He blinked at their entwined bodies, joined where she still straddled him. 

“Would you call this past hour wasted time?”

What shocked him was that he asked that. Because if she viewed it as wasted time, he disagreed. Which was absurd, because he wasn’t there to lie in bed with the multi-faceted Jyn Erso. Had he been told how the night would unfold, he would have handed the mission off to someone else. He couldn’t have been talked into this. 

But he was glad that he wound up there by accident. 

At this, she relaxed. She lifted herself off of him, which he almost mourned, and lay back on the sheets. He now expected her to ask him to leave. 

“You still didn’t find out what I know,” she said coyly, twirling the edge of the blankets playfully. 

He relaxed, stretching out next to her.

“Well, obviously, I can’t leave here without it.”

She rested her head on her pillows, a small, childlike smile gracing her lips. He mirrored that smile with one of his own, and she instantly adored him smile. She wanted more of them, lined in neat rows like a box of expensive chocolate. And like something so sensual and decadent, she could not live off of memory of them alone. 

“I don’t part with that information so easily.”

She lay back, exposing her naked body to him.

His hand cupped her ribcage, and she shivered. 

“Then I’ll have to get it out of you somehow,” he purred in her ear, sliding back between her thighs. She clung tightly to him and only surrendered when he damn well earned it, and much pleasure was had on both sides for her fortitude. 

 

At some point later into the night, his breath was a warm tide against her ear, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He spilled inside her once more, and whispered; “If you knew, why did you let me into your bed?”

She giggled, her breasts trembling obscenely and he groaned at the sight of her as she whispered; “I was terribly bored.”

 

The third night they met like this, she remembered to ask for his name. 

From then on, “Cassian” rolled off her tongue so sweetly every time he fucked her. 

  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had not expected to add much to this, but a tumblr prompt demanded this version of Jyn, so welcome back!

_“Your sword is in the way,”_ she grunted, hefting her hips higher up around his waist. 

Cassian pushed her back against the wall -Jyn Erso was usually intent on climbing him- and got a proper grasp on her thighs. He leveled himself more comfortably. The curtained salon of an empty opera box was by far the worst place for this kind of thing, but she thrived on that, didn’t she? Cheeky thing. 

She was one for dramatics, and the upcoming height of an aria usually had her summon him, with the reflective surface of her ring and some cleverness with a chandelier. The refracted light would dance on his leg or hand from wherever she was seated, and he would know he was summoned. 

 _“That’s not my sword,”_ he said between clenched teeth. 

Her head fell back against the brocade silk on the wall, curls wild around her face, with an incredulous laugh. But his cock pressed close, and she let out a moan that was drowned in the mezzo soprano’s cry from the stage. 

“You dirty thing,” she drawled with a chiding tongue. She kissed him with a warm laugh in her throat. “I should have known, you fence better with a foil than with that sort of weapo-”

He pressed inside her, her skirt rucked up over her thighs. She was wordless, clutching him, as he pinned her to the wall with his hips. 

“Were you laughing at me?” he threatened, and she smiled, squeezing her legs around him. She loved how his military jacket encased his lithe frame. How he stayed fully dressed to fuck her like this. How he looked so proper, even unraveling inside her. His bare hands scandalized her more than the sight of his cock.

She shook her head, coy.  _“I would never.”_

He grinned at her, wolfish. The aria onstage melded into a high vibrato, and the tremble of it matched that of her thighs. 

“Laugh while you can, darling girl. I have half a mind to drag you out to the box and give this audience their encore. A gentleman’s daughter, Jyn Erso, undone by a rebel cock.” 

Jyn trembled, her eyes dreamier than he’d imagined at the threat. “Do it. I dare you.”

“Or did you choose the location for the applause you could project on yourself?” 

She laughed, and he broke too, because she was bizarre, and wonderful, and the only thing that made the evening’s formalities bearable. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: 1. Breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths.

Captain Andor disrupted the careful order of her dance card, and no matter what was whispered of Jyn Erso’s private life, this public display was far more scandalous. Especially since he had usurped a Duke for her next dance. 

Jyn smiled appeasingly over her shoulder when Cassian dragged her out to the floor, demanding she dance with him, shrugging as though she had no power in the dealings of men, as though she didn’t have all their strings taut in her fingers. 

Cassian swept her into the first stance, waiting for the other couples to find their places, his hands secured around her waist. She raised her eyebrows. His stomach dropped at the song queued up.

He’d chosen poorly, the spacing of this one was weaving, not a waltz for two but a country dance that exchanged partners. Jyn made her annoyance clear whenever she passed through his hands, but had to mask her frustration with delight when she was spun off into someone else. 

The chance to talk was ruined, and every eye would be waiting to see what they did next because of the scandal of his forwardness. Jyn could tell he was kicking himself for the sloppy move, but her heart raced. This wasn’t just sloppy; it was dangerous. 

When the dance drew to a close, he caught her by the elbow, swaying on his feet as though drunk. Quickly, his hands lashed out and caught her, hauling her up against him for a kiss. 

Once he held her head in place to plunder her mouth, he murmured against her lower lip:

“Krennic’s watching. Not safe. Get out of here immediately.”

Jyn’s lips pecked once, reassuringly, at him. “I hear you.”

All took place in mere seconds, nearly soundlessly. 

She wrenched herself away, locking eyes like they had practiced, counted to three when he nodded his chin slightly, and then struck him with a sickening slap. 

“You sir, have indulged far too much tonight,” she said loudly, theatrically, and lifted the train of her white gown to march angrily across the floor, clearly affronted. 

Cassian pressed a gloved hand to his cheek, feigning shock, though she did get him good that time. He trudged to a tray of champagne, swallowing down two glasses and waiting out five more dances until he left the ballroom, paced far enough to avoid suspicion. 

It was always a dance. She was his ideal partner.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have become high level obsessed with your Russian Revolution Rebelcaptain fics tonight. Would you be interested in a prompt for that series? Since so much is based on the aristocrats decadence of the period, I'd be so into Jyn tracking Cassian to some seedy safe house, with a bunch of gruff Revolutionaries that really have no time for any raucous, and proceeding to seduce him-- and arriving in a fur coat/cape, stockings, and nothing else. Bonus points if you teases Cassian about sharing w/comrad
> 
> These are all getting a Great Comet song for the theme. This one contains lyrics for "The Duel"

Cassian slips easily into her world. Seamlessly, without question of his presence. In the right clothes and the right words. An unassuming gentleman, a desirable eye to have settled on from across a crowded room. 

He can’t picture her in his, lifting the train of her skirts to stride through mud and slush, dark nights bent over a fire, reeking and rotting along everyone not benefitting from the empire. So many nights spent beside her on lush sheets, he could never once picture her freezing next to him in his bed.

So he sees the coat before he sees her. Red, cheerful, clean. Huddled with Bodhi and Chirrut and Baze like she belongs there, sharing their vodka and swearing in words he’d never think she’d hear. 

She held back her glass with a hearty laugh, singing a familiar drinking song that she could not have picked up alongside her education in French Opera:

_Drink with me my love_

_For there’s fire in the sky,_

_and there’s ice upon the ground_

_either way, my soul will die_

The vodka slid down her throat without so much as a whimper. 

It was then her eyes set upon him, and she smiled, rising and primly holding her coat shut, modestly declining the soldier’s protests to stay. Bodhi kissed her hand and promised to redeem his honor at the sabacc tables some cold night. The fire made her glow in a way candlelight never did justice to. 

“What are you doing here,” he hissed as she drew close. He could see her breath, feel it as it swirled around his face. He was warmed by the cloud of her. 

“Krennic’s in St. Petersburg,” she whispered. “I knew you planned to scope out his home in Moscow, but he’s not here. I wanted to intercept you before you took that risk, save you some time.”

His hand closed around her wrist, dragging her out of the eye of the men around the fire. They were good men, for rogues, but that didn’t mean he wanted them looking at her. He grabbed a lantern as he passed one, illuminating the halls where sounds of communal male spaces filtered. He wished he could cover her ears, but she seemed unfazed. 

“You could have sent me a message,” he stared down at her, trying to understand her intrusion. There was filth all over the barn these men met. Many were housed here, including himself, when times were lean like they were now. It was only as clean as one could assume with that many revolutionaries lying around. Prostitutes and gambling and college students. The nihilists were without standards. 

“I wanted to see the barracks,” she teased lightly, her eyes flashing. He continued to lead her to his quarters, intent on sending her home as soon as her scolded her thoroughly. 

“What if you were followed?”

She rolled her eyes. 

“Not a soul in Moscow or St. Petersburg can name a single lover I’ve taken. No one finds my secrets.”

“Under the knife, Under Krennic’s torturers, you would speak pretty quickly, let me tell you.”

“I’ll admit nothing under duress,” she slung her arms around his neck as he closed the door behind them. “But I’ll say anything for a price, haven’t we established that?”

“I have tested the depths of your resistance,” he murmured, hands gathering the wool material at her hips. The red coat was inconspicuous in design, but the tailoring was too fine for a peasant. The piping was a dead giveaway. He’d have to find her a better disguise, perhaps as a boy...

“You fight for amusement,” he said darkly, pulling himself away. She chuckled, drawing the coat around herself. His shove had flung the edges apart, exposing a leg clad only in a stocking and boot. 

“What do you fight for?”

“My father said a man wasn’t a man until he went to war.”

She rolled her eyes. “If being a man means being ridiculous, I’d agree.”

“I didn’t want to be an imperial soldier, oppressing the people I’d come from. So obviously, I freeze my ass off out here.”

She smiled wickedly, challengingly up at him. 

“All to be a man?”

“For a good cause, Jyn. I wasn’t given much else of an option.”

“Well I’m glad that it’s not to become a man. Otherwise, where would that place me in this war?”

She drew close, toying with the fasteners of her coat. His resolve broke, he drew close, groaning into her mouth as she let it drop.

She’d forgone any clothing under the coat. 

He regarded her dangerously. 

“You came here for more than a message, didn’t you, Jyn?”

She loved the regard of only her first name. No man was allowed to call her Jyn in her world. 

“Maybe.” She shrugged her bare shoulders. 

“Did you come her to get fucked by a rebel cock?” He drew close, his eyes burning. Her hand slid down his trousers, the other sliding his suspenders off his shoulders. 

“I came for this rebel cock,” she whispered until her granted her a kiss. 

How she didn’t freeze being naked under the coat was beyond him. It was all he could do to press him warm hands to her skin and slide her into his bed, warming her with his body. Her shivers were somewhere between pleasure and frost. 

“I’m doing my best,” he mumbled apologetically against her breast. She merely laughed, combing the hair that had fallen over his eye out of his face. 

“I  _adore_  your best,” she smiled serenely, those green eyes unreadable and taunting as ever. His hand secured at her throat for only a moment, the attack of it so quick she didn’t see it coming. She blinked at him, blood racing, clutching his shoulders. He smiled down at her as he instead stroked the column of her throat, tender after proving himself deadly. Her cunt clenched greedily around his next thrust. 

“It seems you trust me,” he teased, and she laughed again. 

“And what Imperial, Bourgeoisie Bitch has seen your private room, Cassian Andor?”

He shuddered against her. “None but you.”

“So we have reached an understanding,” she raised her eyebrows at him, the expression melting into a lazy pleasure as she let moment pass into her completion. He found the statement more jarring, was numb and terrified as she moaned under him, not able to snap out of it until she slid her slips over his cock, pleading for his attention. 

“You’re still angry,” she observed as he was falling asleep. He had given her his warmest shirt to wear to bed. 

He merely pulled her closer. 

“You’re my informant.  _My_  Bourgeoisie Imperialist.”

“I thought you comrads liked to share everything,” she cackled, lips against his adam’s apple. He shook his head. 

“Not you,” he stated firmly, much to tired to think the better of it.

In the morning, he rose, wrapped himself around her shivering body, pleaded for her to go home. She did, a strange sadness in her eyes, wrapped in a coat and walking across frozen ground, an untouchable little red bird going back to her nest. How she had soared. 


	5. Letters

Jyn’s hand trembled as she took her tea, but assuming from the company, she could pretend to be shy of the threat of embarrassing her father. She had learned to lie like that; if her feelings must be true, than she could use them to get what she needed. Anxiety over a late contact from Cassian could distract, disguised as an anxiety over a missing fan or a letter from a suitor promised but never sent. She could make herself into the simple girl they needed to think she was, without ever having to change her face.

She smiled sweetly, but there was a rattle in the saucer when Krennic smiled back. 

A maid arrived with a letter. 

“Addressed to Miss Erso, sirs.”

Jyn accepted the letter in her palm, curling her fingers around the thick parchment. Passably respectable, but cheap. From Cassian. 

“From an admirer?” her father smiled wanly, crossing to the window. 

Jyn shrugged. She kept quiet during these teas, feigning a personality so dull the men were forced to talk about whatever they could in front of her. Which was usually priceless information. 

She rose from her seat, curtsying to be excused. Krennic tore through her like a pin in a butterfly’s wing; 

“From a young suitor?”

So now the focus was on her.

She smiled, letting the flush crawling up her neck speak for the glow of a hopeful love-match, not the scrawl of a rebel’s hand across a blank white page. 

Galen smiled from his spot at the window. “You’re excused to read your letter, Jyn, but be here to say goodbye to our guest.”

She nodded into her curtsy, finally rising. She did not let her knees wobble. 

Cassian had been teaching her spycode. At least, one of his design, for she had a feeling he didn’t want anyone reading his letters to her. She sequestered herself in her father’s study, examining first the pages themselves for tests, invisible ink, maybe a specific scent. Nothing so far. 

She finally let her eyes fall on the words;

_ My darling, _

_ The cat under the stairs just let out the most pathetic little mew; for a moment I thought I had forgotten you in my bed this morning. But that was only a dream.  _

She laughed. He had a habit of going so soft with her in the way he knew she would hate, a mockery of a refined Imperial Gentleman. And, it struck her, “The Cat” usually meant Krennic was in Moscow. She already knew, he was in her drawing room. She rolled her eyes. This is what happened when Cassian didn’t take her seriously as a spy. 

_ My years studying in France have made me too bold, as I should be gentler with you as befits your station. My apologies. Your patience with me has been that of a saint, and I wear the locket you gave me like a holy relic.  _

Patience: wait to do anything. 

_ I have taken your most kind offering, and hope you keep the token I have given you as a pledge. The sweetest prayers fall from my lips, awaiting the day I see your face again. I feel it is sooner than expected.  _

Jyn snorted, at this point he was spelling it out for her. Tonight or tomorrow, he’d be back in her bed. 

_ Please have me, Jyn. I am so lowly in your presence, the scum under your boots. Ask your father to break you from wherever he has you offered and be mine. I’m tempted to steal you away, to some far off place, and dress you only in my kisses. You won’t ever be cold, wearing them. _

Scum meant rebels. He hadn’t told her that but she could hazard a guess. And the proposal. 

Was it tongue and cheek, disguising the purpose of the letter as the ramblings of a lovesick puppy? Or was it a legitimate offer? A plea to leave her father’s house and live in the rebel camp with him? 

She would, she’d be the mewing in his bed in the mornings, if only she wasn’t more useful where she was. Her thighs rubbed together, trying to claim the memory of the last time he was in Moscow, the shivers from his lips on their soft skin, the whispers he left there, plying her for information. 

She was already willing to give it, but it was a fun game. 

She granted herself that she was a novice at spycode. She took note for all the clues she recognized, re-reading twice to make sure, and then deposited the letter in the fire. She waited until not a word of it went unburned, and filed back to the drawing room. 

Krennic smiled his brittle smile at her. 

“You must be thinking of getting her married off, Galen.”

Jyn lowered herself to the sofa.

“Must you, Papa?” she joked, smiling coyly at her father. He was a distracted man, overworked, so she prayed the thought slipped his mind and never returned, as it had always been. 

He furrowed his brow. 

“Should she want to-”

“It’s not appropriate for her to be untethered, it gives women ideas. I’m sure she is feeling anxious to start her family, aren’t you, Jyn?”

She fought back a wince. There wasn’t much room to argue there. Even if her entire being rebelled from the thought of being some smug little wife, tucked in a back bedroom and growing fat with child. 

Krennic didn’t need her answer. He turned to her father.

“I have a nephew. This might be a neat little arrangement.”

Galen didn’t laugh, didn’t refuse, that the daughter he loved would never consent to being pawned off to a mysterious nephew. Instead, he was silent. 

This was suddenly real, not a little fly of a comment to be laughingly brushed aside. She had let it slip away, and there was nothing more she could say.

Jyn’s whole spirit went numb. She performed well enough, looking pleased and curtsying as Krennic took his leave and her father smoked his pipe by the fire, replied ‘yes, father’ when he remarked on the snow twisting through the tree limbs. 

The only thing her father had to say on the matter was this;

“Remember, whatever I do, I do it to protect you.”

That was as much a death sentence as the crack of a firing squad. 

Jyn tried to contain herself. 

Cassian would come for her soon. 

 

There was a thud at the base of her window the following night. They’d used the method of the unlocked kitchen door for the first months, but at this point, he liked to toy with his comings and goings, just to show off his reservoir of skills. 

Jyn should have been asleep, but she’d been pacing for the last two days, ragged and afraid and unable to stop crying. She faked a cold, and while her father felt guilty about her current state, he also accepted her excuse for it without question. 

She didn’t know how to tell Cassian. She had pictured his overjoyed smile;  _ ‘finally, we'll have a contact in his family circle.’  _ and the thought of it devastated her. 

Her face was horribly red and puffy by the time he got there. She never cried. Not since her mother or her tutor Saw died. She was deeply ashamed for him to see her like this. But she had thought she was playing her game so well, living in her nest of Imperial Protection and pretending she would never see any of the downsides. She felt as foolish as she must have seemed to him. 

Snowy in his dark wool coat, Cassian wrapped cold arms around her, burying his face in her white neck. He liked to chill her and then warm her up. 

“You’re restless tonight.”

She nodded, staring at the fire. He hadn’t seen her eyes yet. Maybe she could get him naked and he never would look. 

Too late, he was pulling away, and looking down at her carefully. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“The Cat got me before you did.”

He stepped back, a look of shock on his face. 

“What do you mean?”

“I have to get married,” she chewed her lower lip, which had a red bruise from the constant worry of her teeth for the last two days. 

“It’ll be alright,” he wrapped his arms around her waist, forcing her to tilt her face to look up at him. “It’ll be fine. We’ll find a way to make this work. About my letter-”

She shook her head. 

“Krennic. You’ll be here soon. Reminding me that I’m the whore of a rebel cock. I read your letter.”

He pulled away, scratching at his scalp, where his hair was matted down by the hat he had wearing in the snow. 

“Well, that’s one way to put it,” he said dryly. 

“Is there something you needed to tell me? Or are you just going to ply me with fake secrets to stay another night in my bed?”

He shook his head. Stepped closer. She loved the way his boots clung to his calves, the slight whine of the leather when he moved.

"Lie to me," she ordered, "Cruel ones. That you'll marry me. That you love me."

He shook his head. "I can't tell those."

"Then leave."

"I'm not doing that either."

She glared at him, her face reddening.

“What can I do for you to get you to stop crying?” she heard his smile in his voice. Wicked, delirious. He was playing for the heart of her as he knew it. 

She slung her arms around his shoulders when he grew close. Buried her face in his chest, as she had originally planned. He lifted her into her bed, stripping her nightgown away and rolling her into the fur blanket she had stretched across the mattress. 

He knew her. Her shoulders always shrugged into the texture of it, savoring pleasant sensations. But even though her eyes were trying to tell him that she was longing for it, her body wasn’t moving the same way. He pulled back. 

“Jyn…”

She shook her head. “Come to me.”

“I can get you out of this-”

"Lie better," she crawled towards him, "Tell me you'll marry me. You don't have to mean it. We don't take lovers for the truth."

"Jyn, stop."

“I just want you tonight,” she rose on her knees, shaking hands on his belt, “I don’t want to think about it-”

“Jyn, please.”

He lifted his hands away from her skin. She kissed his neck, and his shoulder rose to try and shrug her off. 

“We have to let it happen. I’m no use to you without being here.”

He placed her face between his gentle hands. “It’s not about having a use for you anymore, Jyn.”

She pulled him by the lapels of his coat, kissing him. Trying to drown out the fact he was terrifying her with that kind of talk.

A gentle hand settled its fingers on her sternum, pressing her back. 

“I can take you away,” he promised. “But until you need that, will you be mine in secret?”

Frantically, she pulled the rebel into her bed. He kissed her everywhere, and she wasn’t cold. 

He’d kept every promise so far. Even the little ones, where he swore that when he finally let her cum, it would be worth the wait. 

He kissed the inside of her thighs, and glanced up at her, stretched out and prone on the furs, and rubbed his thumbs up and down her ribcage. She seized one of his hands in her shaking ones, gripping it, hoping that he would not break this impressive record. He squeezed back. 

“I will,” she gasped out, and that must have been what he was waiting for, because when he finally let her cum, it was so blindingly worth the wait she had to lie with silken bones in a pool on the mattress. 

He lifted her by the back of the neck, raising her head from the pillows, and kissed her flushed face until she could properly return him one. 

“I don’t regret stealing you,” he murmured as he slid inside her. 

She shook her head, her curls trembling around her ears. Her thighs gripped his hips, reminding him of her own skill matching his. 

She glowed under the firelight, and it struck him that his appeasing words may have worked better than he could have ever hoped. She had wanted him to.

“I don’t regret letting you."  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kay….idk what all that was. Like I said, military jackets. And Felicity has such a pretty laugh, so I wanted Jyn to use it. So...yeah. I know this is a little goofy and OOC, but...whatevs. It was fun to write.


End file.
